Rooftop Poetry Club - Ryki Zuckerman

Ryki Zuckerman

Bio:
Poet, artist, editor, and teacher ryki zuckerman is the author of body of the work (Textile Bridge Press, second edition 2006). Her poems have also appeared in various small press magazines such as "Black Mountain College II Review", "Slipstream", "Swift Kick", "Monthly Planet", "Lipstick", "Escarpments", as well as The Buffalo News and Artvoice.

Robert Creeley said of her work: "ryki zuckerman practices the lively art of upfront truth-telling with a valid poetic license. Viz, she enjoys her work and, if you can open your ears and hear it, so will you."

She is an editor of "Earth's Daughters" magazine, a feminist literary periodical in its 35th year of publication. Recently, her art graced the cover of Earth's Daughters Traditions issue. She conceived and is coordinating a reading series this year for Earth's Daughters, co-sponsored by Hallwalls and Just Buffalo, called "The Gray Hair Series".

She was program co-ordinator for many years for the now defunct Niagara-Erie Writers (N.E.W.) and literary coordinator for Peopleart Gallery.

She has taught writing workshops for adults and for children, including for N.E.W. and for Summerarts in the Park. However, when she hears the familiar "Ms. Zuckerman!", it is usually one of her former art students. She retired after over 3 decades with the Buffalo Public Schools.

She holds both Bachelor's and Master's degrees from State University College at Buffalo.

Poems:

playback

a moment slips off the shelf
and rattles around;
all the dominoes fall down;
the scenario is stuck on rerun;
no incision necessary to survey the contents
just

peel back the scalp, spilling:
unravelled reels of frenzied film
dream entangled in breath
gyroscopes spiralling laughter;
elsewhere, soundless moving mouths.

peel back the cranium, emptying:
stolen shadows, silent screams;
greedy thalamus gorges on
whispers which shiver the tiny cilia
on the nape of the neck;

a blue electric moan
edged with pale phosphorous
crackles across the retina.

the seeing dance

my father and i
both took our teeth to dr. kaplan
who worked out of an office
in his home.

while i lay supine in the dentist's chair,
my mouth fettered by steel,
his young daughter
would prance in
and circle around me
as if performing
some archaic ritual,
cocking her head to one side,
then the other,
eyes fixed on me.

i had no idea
what ailed that child.

years later, my dad mentioned
that he'd talk to her
during his dental sessions,
entertaining her with stories
he swore were true;

convinced her
that i had not one
but two heads
which were clearly visible
if she'd chant
the seeing words silently
and look very carefully.

reunion

if i lived in new york,
i would visit joan every day,
or once a week.
i think she's relocated
and perhaps finding her again
would be as the first time -
standing there, mouth agape,
listening to the voice
of the angel or saint
in the branches above her,
stumbled away from her loom
in the leafy yard,
french wine country,
the Sight blinding her,
her pale skin vibrant,
cheeks flushed,
the creator's gift apparent.
i would find her
and sit once again
in awe
before her,
but, this time, i would
close my mouth.

(after Bastien-Lepage's "Jeanne D'Arc",1879, The Met, permanent collection)